Page 9 of Dirty Like Brody
Not only had Brody become much more of an asshole than I remembered… he was kind of scary when he was pissed off. Colder than he used to be; harder. Bigger, too. A lot more muscular; I could tell, even with the leatherjacket.
“Unlessyou want me to arrange to get your ass on a plane out of here right now,” he went on, leaning his big, muscular, pissed-off self into my space, “and we pretend you never landed. Because if anyone finds out you showed your ass in town and then you turned tail and took off, sweetheart, I am not gonna be the one telling Jesse to back off and give you space. You hear me on this? I’m fucking done with covering for you and making excuses for you and waiting for you to get a clue. Your brother loves you and the least you can do is show your face at his motherfuckingwedding.”
My gaze dropped away from the accusation in those cold eyes. I studied the muscle ticking in his jaw, the veins standing out on his neck, and realized I’d been wrong. He wasn’tpissed.
He wasseething.
And no, this was definitely not going as badly as I feared it might. It was much, muchworse.
I felt the burn at the back of my throat, the stinging behind my eyes, but I took a deep, shuddering breath, willing myself not to do this… not to fall apart. Not in front of him. Butshit. I totally felt like ateenager.
Maybe because the last time I’d been this close to Brody, Iwasone.
His hand went to my hip and I heard the click as he released my seatbelt, felt the straps slide over me as he reached across me…. his nose almost bumping mine as he pulled the latch on my door,openingit.
“Get out,”hesaid.
I didn’t move. Instead, I bitmylip.
I didn’t realize I’d done it until his gaze dropped to my lips, then flicked back up to my eyes. His eyes darkened and a slow, aching minute passedbetweenus.
If he was any other man, I might’ve thought he wasturnedon.
As it was… he looked kind ofdisgusted.
The rain pattered down on the truck, encasing us inside, and yeah; it was just like I was eighteen and he was twenty-three all over again, sitting in his truck in the rain—except that day, he wasn’t telling me to leave. He was asking—no,beggingmetostay.
But back then, Brody didn’thateme.
Now…?
I couldn’t blame him for being mad at me. I’d expected things to be difficult between us. I did notexpectthis.
I did notexpecthate.
But it was definitely hatred I saw in his eyes. Pure, ice-cold loathing, with a hefty side of revulsion andresentment.
And Brody Mason hating me? No amount of preparation could’ve helped me with this. Even if I’d told him everything I thought I might tell him, my harrowing confession… I didn’t think he’d hate me. I thought he’d like me less, and that was bad enough—bad enough to keep megonefor six-and-a-half years. I couldn’t even imagine how hard it would be to come crashing down off the pedestal he’d put me on so many years ago… but I knew it wouldn’t feel good. I knew it would bepainful.
But this? This waspurehell.
“Are you getting out,” he asked in that stone-cold voice, “or do I have to dragyouout?”
Um…no.
That would not benecessary.
Mostly because the thought of him putting his hands on me right now, in any way, was making my clit throb, because apparently, pissed off Brody turned me on about as much as he scared me. Because I was screwed uplikethat.
Yeah;purehell.
“I’m here,” I managed. “I’m here for thewedding,okay?”
“Believe it when I fuckingseeit.”
“So you’re just kidnapping me, isthatit?”
“I’d call it damage control, but if that’s what you wanna call it,” he said, “go right the fuckahead.”
